Dysfunctional
by epicjellyfish
Summary: on their way back from a political mission (the kind that make you fall asleep while standing and curse under your breath more than you speak aloud) The Enterprise encounters a hostage situation that becomes painfully personal. T for suggested rape, torture, kidnap and cursing. only in the beginning though!
1. Chapter 1

**hey hey hey! I'm back! this story has been my pride and joy in the past few months, so I have written four chapters in advance so I can update regularly, this is a Peter Pan crossover but it seriously AU, so you don't have to know the story of Peter Pan to read it. thanks to my lovely Beta on tumblr, Tririlex, for making your lovely commentary and corrections, and my little bother who put the Idea in my head.**

**now on with the show!**

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Chapter 1

Blue. The color stared at Jim, pale and still. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't work. Wind caressed his face, and a bird flew into the scene before him, as if taunting him.

_I can fly. You can't. You can't do anything._ The bird would say, if it could. Jim knew it. He wriggled a little. The movement came back to his fingers, and he gently clutched the smooth metal communicator in his hand. He slowly and haltingly pushed himself up onto his elbows, but when he went to flip onto his stomach, white hot pain shot up his side like fury unbound.

Jim cursed; he had to find his crew. The others could be anywhere on the desert planet, the native inhabitants - oh. It was all coming back to Jim now, the events of the last twenty four hours clouding his mind.

Flashback-

"Captain, we're receiving a distress call from Turkana VI" Lieutenant Uhura turned in her seat to face the main view port.

Jim groaned audibly; he was just about to go back to his quarters, to catch a few hours of well deserved sleep. The last mission had taken them to the end of the neutral zone, followed by terse communication with the Romulans. He hadn't slept in two days.

Jim walked back to his captains chair, settling into his classic 'captain awesome' pose. His Vulcan impersonation, with a welcoming air of 'we have bigger guns. This better be important'

On the screen, the scene was chaos. It appeared to be a cave, covered in blood. About fifty bloody naked bodies of children, none older than ten, were piled in the center of the stone. On the wall above the mess of broken corpses, there was a battered red banner, that depicted a diagonal white spear with black rings around the whole of the shaft.

The screen became static for a second, and then it came back, but the scene had changed. It was a cave nearly identical to the one before, but the floor was clean, and no one there was dead. In the center of the room, there was a crowd of children, some human and the youngest looked -god forbid- Vulcan!?. the children had schooled features,even though they were chained by their bruised feet and unclothed, except for rags tied around their hips.

A man walked onto the screen, tall with ridges on his head and long hair pulled into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He smiled cruelly, showing off sharp teeth. He was probably a native, if his seven foot stature and blue skin was anything to go by.

"Captain Kirk, correct?" The alien inquired. Without waiting for reply, he continued " What I want is simple. You bring four kilo's of Eraborian mithril, and these children will not suffer the same fate the others did."

The transmission cuts off abruptly, leaving a silent bridge. Jim turned to his first officer and best friend, Spock.

"Suggestions, Mr. Spock?"

"Logic dictates a ninety three percent chance of a trap. I believe the wisest course of action is to meet his demands."

"There isn't any mithril on this side of the quadrant. It would take years to get even half the amount he demands!" Uhura interjected.

"Noted lieutenant. I'll take down a security team. Sulu, Spock and Uhura you're with me. You have the bridge Mr. Chekov." Jim stood up and walked out of the bridge, his officers following.

End flashback-

It had all gone to hell from there. But that wasn't the point. His officers- Uhura, Spock and Sulu- were most likely being held in the detention center. The same one the children were in.

Jim once again struggled to his knees, pulling his legs underneath himself in order to stand. Staggering to his feet, he finally glanced at the place where the pain in his side was the worst. There, in his side, there was a huge rip in his shirt (now red and sticky with blood) and through the rip he could see a huge bite mark. Luckily, it missed any vital systems, but he was still loosing blood.

Jim ripped the sleeves off of his shirt, and tied them tightly around his torso. That should stop the blood flow, for now. He ripped his pants at the knee, and and wrapped the black material around his head.

When on a desert planet, remember to cover your face to prevent burn and find a secure water source. Starfleet academy's survival 101 class. He was glad he actually payed attention to some of it. He took in his surroundings, and found flat desert at all around- except north. A small building in the distance, about half a mile away, seemingly abandoned. Jim knew better.

Steeling himself, he started to shuffle unsteadily toward the disguised compound entrance.

=^=|=^=|=^=|=^=|=^=| STAR TREK |=^=|^=^|=^=|=^=|=^=

When Spock finally regained consciousness, he found himself in a position that thoroughly scared him (not that he showed it). He was chained to a wall, naked. After pushing down his panic, he observed the room he was in. A small rectangular stone room, with a single bulb in the center of the ceiling that cast a harsh fluorescent light over the small space. The room was damp, and when Spock breathed the smell of rotting flesh and fear filled his nose.

Suddenly, there was a loud Bang and numerous shouts as guards burst into his cell. They carried between them a dirty thrashing figure, the ragged head of long dirty hair covering her face. Stringing the figure up by chains on the wall to the left of Spock, the guards leered at the prisoner.

"You're lucky that the master doesn't just kill you now. He likes the ones with spark. Breaking them is the fun part that we have to miss out on." He chuckled with his own twisted humor. The prisoner looked up, and spat in his face. the guard drew back his arm as the other silently watched. As he went to hit the prisoner, the other guard caught his arm.

"You don't want the master to see any amount of bruises on this one. He wants her pure. As she can get, at least." the guard said. The other guard scowled and grunted in grudging acceptance, and they left. Spock shakily lifted his head to look at the girl.

It was obvious she was female, with long hair and distinctly female body parts, though cut and bruised. Her eyes shined icy blue through the curtain of greasy red hair, and her lips were full and red. She would have been pretty, if it weren't for her dirty, abused, and malnourished appearance.  
Spock cleared his dry throat painfully, and spoke. " I am commander Spock, of the USS Enterprise" The girl moved her head to look at him, and he noticed something he didn't before. She had distinctly pointed ears and eyebrows, and pale skin that was colored with a hint of greenish yellow. She looked distinctly romulan, to a point.

"I'm Peter, captain of the starship Neverlander. My crew, the children. Did you see them before you came?" She answered with nothing but calm in her voice, but it was obvious by her face she was in pain.

"I did see your crew. But i do not understand. You cannot be a starship captain at your apparent age. It is not legal."

Peter chuckled humorlessly. "Who said I was legal, Mr. Spock? Even if I am just fifteen, I am still capable of looking after myself and my crew." Spock could not place it, but he could tell that there was something she was not telling him.

"Fascinating" he said.

"Yeah? Well fascinating as I am, you can keep your eyes to yourself."

The start of a beautiful friendship.

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**Cookies and cake to anyone who reviews! any questions or suggestions on changes I need to make will be welcome, but flames will be used to roast marshmallows:D**


	2. Chapter 2

**thank you so much my four lovely reviewers. I was so happy that you were intrigued by chapter 1, that I decided to post chapter 2 early. Once again, thank you to my lovely beta trirlex, and my sweet little bro, and my mom for falling asleep during designated family time so I could sneak away and post this. I do not own Peter Pan or Star Trek, but If i did I would throw wild parties in my mansion in Beverly Hills with Stan Lee and Harrison Ford. **

**On with the Show!**

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Chapter 2:

Doctor Leonard McCoy was a mother hen, and an alcoholic, and a doctor, in that order. He was constantly worried, which caused him to drink, which caused him to get his degree(s) so he could prevent his liver from going kaput. But now, he was wondering if he should be worrying about his heart giving out as well.

Of all the things Jim could have done in terms or 'reckless-just-to-give-my-best-friend-heart-proble ms', this one really took the cake. Out of contact for a couple of hours in a hostage situation, and when they finally find his signal and beam him up the damned son of a bitch had already been stabbed,bitten, received the shite end of a blunt object, and had severe dehydration. And don't get him started on the other members of the away team. other than sulu, They hadn't even been located yet.

McCoy already had to re-construct his own liver three times that year, with all the stress relievers (vodka, romulan ale, orion hard rum, the works) he had consumed. The away missions were killing not just Bones but Jim too. That goddamned jerk was the death of him. Six times over. Of all the people to be best friends with, McCoy, you had to-

"Bones . . . Bones!" drawn out of his thoughts, McCoy looked over to his left, where Jim lay in a biobed. He took a swig of his drink. (Chekov's homemade vodka)

"What?! Can't ya see I'm drinkin' here?!" he demanded crankily. Jim chuckled.

"Yeah, I can. Gimme some of that. I need a drink." Bones scowled, and tucked the bottle away under his seat.

"No. You're healing. If I find a trace of that shite in your blood stream tomorrow, Jim, I swear to god you'll be dead and I'll be doing hundred-fifteen to life on moon base five, you hear me damnit?!" Jim held his hand up in surrender.

"Alright! Alright. Can you call Spock down here, so I can talk to someone less boring? Cuz I'm really feeling for a game of chess." Jim grinned a 'eat-shite-I-dont-give-two-damns' smile. Bones sobered a little at the request.

"Spock didn't make it back, Jim. Neither did Uhura. They're still on the surface, the children too. and Sulu is out in another biobed"

Jim lost his grin. "What do you mean, they didn't make it? Get me out of this bed, I'm going back down!" He pushed himself up, only to fall back down when his drugged body couldn't hold him. Bones stood up and pushed him back down.

"Oh no, you don't! You will stay right here. You will." Bones pulled a hypo out of . . . well nowhere, really, and put it to Jim's neck. It made a quiet sound like air forced out of a tube, and Jim's world went dark.

=^=Spirk*Spirk=^=

It had been a week, three days and twelve hours since Spock had been in the prison, when the sound of shouting outside the room returned, followed by the door opening.

A man entered, with longish black greasy hair, and a long black trench coat. He leered cruelly at both Peter and Spock, and waved out the guards that were with him. The door shut, and the man looked at both prisoners.

"I bet you're hungry, vulcan. You're such a pretty little thing. I'll give you food, if you tell me your name, and maybe, who you work for? If not, that's ok. I can always persuade you." He leered at Spock, and pulled rubber gloves onto his hands with a loud snap. He went to the door, and pulled a metal cart into the room. On it, there were various things that made Spock steel himself. Scalpels, knives, hot brands, metal pipes, plasma tazers, and bottles of chemicals lay on top of the cart menacingly.

"And you. Oh, you are always my favorite. What has it been, two months? You still think you'll get your ship back, and you and your crew will get out with your childish innocence still in tact?" He laughed.

"Start talking, both of you." With that, he swiped the scalpel off the cart, and drew it across Spock's chest sharply. He did it over and over, sometimes drawing geometric figures in the vulcans skin. Green blood trickled down his chest, and drip, drip, dripped onto the floor.

"Still not talking? Ok, girlie it's your turn!" He turned to Peter, who wriggled a little, and spit on his face.

"Go to hell you mindless pig!" She shouted hoarsely. He growled at her, and pulled a white hot knife off the cart. Spock watched him draw the knife down the girls legs with no expression on his face, though anger and fear raged inside him.

"It is highly illogical to seek information from one person, yet try and force it out of another." Spock monotoned. The man whipped around.

"You want some more? How nice you appreciate my effort. Suddenly Spock's eyes were wrenched open, and a bright, white light was shined into them. He tried to close them, but whatever device that was holding them open wouldn't budge. He couldn't see anything, except for the light, and it was getting painful.

"Stop! You bastard. You're hurting him!" Peters voice shouted.

"That was the point girlie. But you obviously didn't get it. Let me help you." Spock heard a hiss of pain, and Peter shout his name. The world went black.

=^=spirk*spirk=^=

If Jim were to put one thing about himself on paper, he would start with: Hi. I'm Jim. My life until Starfleet was shitty and unimportant, and my life after Starfleet was radical and still unimportant. My life, compared to all the lives that sit on my shoulders (Spock, Vulcan, his mother, could have saved them. He could have.) was and still is nothing. And my last name is Kirk.

That really applied. All the time. Of course, he lived for other people. He lived for his crew, his family. He wasn't anything special. The only thing special about him was his family. They made him who he was, they where the only reason he hadn't gone insane with nightmares of Tarsurus VI, and Frank, his alcoholic stepfather who beat him.

He was here for his family. His crew. And damnit, if he had to go on a suicide mission into the headquarters of a terrorist organization, he would do it. It also counted that Spock was there. Spock was his first officer and good friend. Maybe more, somed-

Jim stopped himself. He couldn't have feelings for Spock, it wasn't allowed. Since when did he have feelings for Spock anyway? He was going to think about this for a while, he knew it.

He crawled out of sickbay as quietly as possible. He was healed enough to find his missing away team.

=^=spirk*spirk=^=

When Uhura woke up, she didn't know where she was. She was surrounded by bits and bobs, and grimy blankets. She was in some kind of room, carved into rock. There was a blanket tacked to the wall that prevented her from seeing anything past it. On the other side, she heard voices.

A soft voice broke the murmur. "But she's so pretty! Surely she can't be-"

"Haven't you learned anything?! She could be a spy!" A deeper but still childish voice interrupted.

"Peter would give her a chance." The softer voice mumbled.

"Well Peter isn't here!" Uhura sat up, and crawled out of the little cove. She was in a cave, with low ceilings, and damp floors, with rocks here and there to sit. There with her were six boys and small girl in the room, all dressed in rags.

"Who's peter?" she asked with a little smile. A tall lanky black haired boy answered.

"None of your-"

"She is our leader. My name is Tootles. What is yours, lady?" The smaller, blond boy sitting next to the black haired boy. He gave her an earnest smile, while elbowing his companion in the side.

"I'm lieutenant Nyota Uhura, of the starship Enterprise. You don't mind me asking your names?" Play it cool, Uhura. Make friends. God knows you'll need the help to escape.

"I'm Nibs." The black haired one told her.

One sitting behind him sat up from his . . . . sewing? and said enthusiastically "Im Slightly!"

Uhura grinned.

"We're the twins!" The identical twins exclaimed from next to Slightly. "This is Marmaduke-" one said, pointing to his twin.

"And this is Binky!" Marmaduke said, pointing to his twin.

"I'm Curly." said the timid, kinda chubby one sitting in the corner.

"I am T'ink" said a tiny, blond girl with huge eyes. This little girl had delicate pointed ears, and turned up eyebrows. Like a vulcan. She must have been the youngest. The boys looked at between T'ink and Uhura, with shocked expressions.

"She never talks to anybody!" exclaimed Tootles. Nib's expressive blue eyes got wide for a second, then closed. He shook his head with a slight amused smile.

"Well if T'ink likes you, then I guess you're ok. Welcome to our humble prison cell, Miss Uhura." he held out his hand for her to shake. She took his hand and noticed his surprisingly loose grip for such a seemingly uptight person.

T'ink protested"a vulcan cannot 'like' someone, Nibs"

"We've been captured and jailed together. I think you can call me Nyota." She hadn't ever allowed anyone to call her Nyota, except for her closest friends, but she felt she could trust these boys.

The boys and little T'ink rearranged themselves into a circle, with Nyota. It was then they started bombarding her with questions, answering her questions, telling stories and jokes, and being children and it was then she started noticing the little, troubling details. How T'ink's skin was pulled so tightly over her skull and rib cage, like she had not eaten in days. How Nibs had big long scars on his back and Tootles, with the deep purple shadows under his eyes and his extremely pale complexion.

These kids were deprived of a lot, she could tell, and she would get them out the first chance she got.

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**and thats the end folks! Reveiw pleeeeaaaaseeeee! I needs theeeeeemmm! **

**Flames will be used to roast marshmallows:D thank you for reading!**


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